


What possessed me to put a collar on my new wife?

by Laikin394



Series: "Love Letters" out of line [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, I will probably regret posting this, PWP, SMUTTY SMUT, Smut, ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laikin394/pseuds/Laikin394
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...or what would happen if i got my greasy paws on CharlotteAshmore's "Love Letters". Consider it an alternative ending of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1753543/chapters/4709397">Chapter 24</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	What possessed me to put a collar on my new wife?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharlotteAshmore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Love Letters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753543) by [CharlotteAshmore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore). 



> Also for EmilieBrown and LicieOIC who were the only brave enough people to say yes to my porn.
> 
> If you haven't read "Love Letters" ( **spoiler ahead!** ) Belle bounds herself to Rumple and receives a dagger. Uh-oh, her new husband is not amused and thinks he can teach her a lesson.
> 
> Rioghna, I am sorry, it probably fits your criteria of bad BDSM porn. *sigh*

He closes the door behind him, turning to glance at his wife. She is still curled on the floor, just like he left her and he feels a pang of guilt prickle his heart. Rumpelstiltskin walks to the chair, sitting to stretch his long legs, his posture misleadingly relaxed while he’s wound tighter than a bow string inside. Yet, when he speaks, none of the tension shows; it is more of the Dark One forming the words than the gentle spinner.

“So, did you miss me, dearie?”

Her eyes shoot up at him, immensely blue and full of suppressed anger. She loathes to be called that and he damn well ensures it sounds as foul as he could manage.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Does it offend your ears?” he hisses. The hilt of the dagger digs into his side just under his ribs and the dull ache is good, serving as a reminder of why he needs to do it. “Perhaps, you’d like another name? How about… _pet_?”

Belle grits her teeth but offers no reply.

“You can answer, _pet_ ,” Rumpelstiltskin offers generously even as a muscle in his cheek twitches at the wrongness of this.

“Call me anything you wish, master.” She spits the word out as if it were poison, always proud and unyielding. He almost reconsiders then. After all, it’s their first day as a married couple and she’s too young and still too innocent; too good to be treated this way. He sees that fire in her eyes and he knows she doesn’t understand what it means to be bent to someone’s will, how dangerous and frightening it is to be a puppet in one’s hands. _Kiss my boot_ , echoes in his head and his stomach lurches. But then, is he being any better now?

Rumpelstiltskin tries to shake off the gloomy thoughts, turning to lock his gaze with hers. It’s more than just a battle of stubbornness; he needs to get the point across, but he doesn’t know how. Do too much – and she will break which will ultimately destroy him; do too little – and she will never realize how foolish she has been, deciding to bind herself to him in such a way.

“Well, then. Prepare tea for us,” he commands and Belle hurries to oblige. She quickly pours two cups, slipping a spoonful of honey into his and offers it to him on a saucer.

“Rumple, I’m sorry, please, let me explain…” The girl tries to reach out to his face but he quickly jerks his head back.

“Ah-ah, none of that, dearie,” he snarls and her hand drops limp at her side. There is confusion now and she twists her nightgown instead. “Sit, have a cup with me.”

Belle turns around to take the second chair but his humourless chuckle stops her.

“What do you think you are doing, pet? On the floor,” he barks and she shivers at the cruelty of his voice. “Sit at your master’s feet, where you belong.”

Silently, she obeys, her cheeks turning pink at the humiliation. She watches him under her lashes warily as she sips the hot liquid, too quick and careless that it probably burns her tongue.

“Not what you expected, pet?” he pushes her further and he’s not sure he can stop.

“No,” she says forcefully. “I hadn’t foreseen that my own husband would assert himself as my master.”

Rumpelstiltskin puts the cup aside, leaning down until his face is merely an inch away from hers and he can smell the herbal scent of her shampoo; his brave little wife doesn’t flinch away, holding his stare.

“Oh ho, dearie, but I haven’t even started to _assert_ myself,” he drawls. “When we are done, you will wish you had never even thought to make that foolish decision. Now, you will not attempt to snatch the dagger from me, or use magic, pet. And those shall be the only rules.”

The girl nods in agreement – not that she has any choice, really – and Rumpelstiltskin twists his fingers in the air, conjuring a shiny golden band and she dumbly stares at it. It takes Belle a second to realize what it is but when she does, her husband has already snapped the collar shut around her throat. Her fingers fly to the smooth metal, cold and alien on her skin.

“Even better,” he mutters, attaching a delicate chain through the loop in front. He studies his handiwork impassively and for the first time she thinks she understands what the legends of the monster took their root in. Her eyes become moist and she parts her lips to reason with him when there is a harsh knock on the door.

“What are you doing there, you twisted imp? Belle? Belle!” More insistent banging. “Open the bloody door or I swear…”

“Get lost, you importunate creature. Keep your nose out of our business,” Rumpelstiltskin shouts and if anything, it makes the girl more desperate to know what’s going on.

“It’s alright, Sarah,” Belle calls. “I’m fine. Please leave us, we need some time alone.”

“What? No. Look, if you don’t…”

Rumple sends a surge of greyish magic, cutting off the rest of her friend’s words.

“Now, where were we, pet?” he walks around her, dark and imposing, taking the dagger out and turning it in his hands. “Do you really think you are safe with me? Answer.”

Belle shivers but her voice is firm.  “You could never hurt me,” she says confidently.

It is true; he knows all too well what it is like to be under someone’s control. Her dagger burns his hands but at the same time he’s tempted by it. He’s never had anyone and now he has Belle; fully and unconditionally. His head is dizzy with power.

“What if the dagger was in someone else’s hands?” he offers silkily. “What if Gaston got it and paraded you around as his trophy? What if your father used it to finally make you do what he wants? Your will completely stripped away?” The girl shudders at the prospect and he continues. “What if you were used as a toy or a murderer, to conquer lands and slaughter the disobeying with the sheer power of your magic? Would you feel so safe then?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s hands caress the blade; it’s unexcitingly dull but the point is sharp, piercing his skin easily and making a drop of dark red blood form on the pad of his thumb. Belle shivers again and he smiles.

“Oh, you can feel that, can’t you?” he runs his fingers along the blade slowly and her skin breaks into goose bumps. In the early days his own connection to the dagger was stronger as well and he had almost forgotten the raw intensity of it.

“Or there could be even worse of a fate. You could be ordered to kill those you love. I could command you to rip your precious Sarah’s heart out to serve it to me on a silver platter and there is not a single thing you’d be able to do about it,” his fingers gently tickle the blade and Belle squirms on the floor, torn between the acid of his words and the softness of his touch as the magic of the dagger wraps around her, prickling her skin with little jolts of sharp unwanted pleasure. “What do you say, pet? How would you like to be turned into a powerless, mindless animal?”

“Fine.”

“What was that?” Rumpelstiltskin is so taken aback he doesn’t even realize she has spoken.

“I said fine,” Belle tugs on the laces on the top of her nightgown and yanks it down her body. Mesmerized, the man watches it slide down, revealing the curve of her shoulders and exposing her delicate breasts. She discards it clumsily, not rising from her knees and he gulps. Oh but she is so lovely.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a thin voice, unfitting for the Dark One as his panic seeps into it. It’s not going as he planned. “I never ordered you to undress.”

“But you’ve never prohibited me either. Animals do not belong in clothes, _master_ ,” she explains cheekily. “And isn’t that how you wanted me? Obedient and unthinking?”

No, he didn’t. Or maybe he did. Oh gods she’s naked on her knees, the gold of the collar complimenting the paleness of her skin. He watches as the chain slithers between her breasts when she moves, following it down her belly where it meets…

His wife looks up at him and his plan crumbles to hell as the blood rushes to his crotch. He needs to throw this fucking dagger away, scoop her in his arms and make love to her until they both forget it ever happened.

Instead, he looks down at the knife he’s holding. The blood from his thumb stains in and without thinking he raises the blade to his lips, licking it off. Belle yelps as the swipe of his tongue across the metal echoes across her most sensitive parts. Rumpelstiltskin grins and repeats the motion deliberately slow this time, tracing the shape of the letters of her name on the blade. She almost screams, the pleasure too exquisite to keep silent and she leans back on her arms for support as her body shakes and quivers.  Rumpelstiltskin dips his tongue in the small crevices in the metal, following the swift angles of L’s and rounded B over and over, until he has it perfectly memorized. He wishes he could taste her, thick and musky against his tongue instead of the tingle of copper and bitterness of magic. He licks and flicks his tongue at the blade until she is practically hoarse and the top of her thighs glisten with the evidence of her arousal.

“What will be your next order, master?” her chest is heaving and the blush quickly spreads down her neck; he has never seen a more beautiful sight. A dozen vivid images flash in his mind, one more lascivious than the next but he doubts he would ever be brave enough to act them out; maybe eventually, but not today.

Belle smiles at the delay as if she could see right through him, the mischievous little smirk tugging the corner of her mouth up and he just has to kiss it from her lips. He reaches for her chain, twisting it around his palm and slowly pulls her forward; he is looking for the signs of discomfort or fear in her eyes but he finds none and she is the one to close the distance between them. There is urgency and deep hunger in her kiss and Rumpelstiltskin wonders if he has stirred something previously hidden in her; perhaps by putting a collar around her neck he has set her free and bound himself instead.

He pulls away and the girl groans in frustration, licking her swollen lips to get every last bit of his taste. Rumple conjures a pillow, tossing it onto the floor to her right.

“How about a little show, pet?” he turns around to the chair and hears the chain click as she hurries after him. He leans back and spreads his legs, wincing at the pressure of his leathers against his cock. “I want to see you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Belle’s eyes are wide and glued to his bulging breeches; after all, she lost her virginity less than several hours ago and the sight of an excited man is still new to her.

“My eyes are here, love,” he chuckles and she shifts her gaze to his face. Rumpelstiltskin taps the dagger against his open palm, wondering how detailed his instructions ought to be. “Lay back and put the pillow under yourself,” he says and his wife quickly stretches out on the floor, stuffing the pillow under her neck.

Rumple shakes his head, forgetting in her innocence she wouldn’t know what he’d meant. “No, no, dearie, not there.”

Belle stares at him blankly, truly confused by what he wished.  “And just where else am I supposed to put a pillow?”

His grin is deliciously wicked as he rubs the fingers of his right hand together in anticipation.  “Your hips, pet.  Put it beneath your hips.”  Her eyes widen, but she hurries to obey, her heart galloping against her ribs.  “Now open your legs.”

He can tell this command is harder for her to cope with but the magic of the dagger makes her comply; he has a perfect view of her pussy, plump and glistening and if he concentrated on it, he probably could catch the light essence of her excitement.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and the dagger in his hands heats up under the combined dark and sex magic. “Touch yourself like you want me to touch you, where you would want to feel my lips and mouth and tongue.”

Belle whimpers as either her instincts or the power of his words guide her hand to gently dip her fingertips between her folds.

“Slower, pet. We don’t want it to end too soon, do we?”

She bites her lip and nods, her touch becoming more languid. She hasn’t done it before, Rumple realizes and it is as much of exploration for her as it is for him.

Belle alternates between the teasing strokes of her fingertips to the steady pressure of her palm, bucking her hips up when she brushes her clit. She is clumsy both due to the lack of practice and her own slippery juices that cover her hand and her mound, easing the glide of her fingers between her folds.

“Spread yourself,” he has to clear his parched throat to speak. “Make your fingers into a V and press your lips apart.” She obliges, baring her pink and delicate clit to him. “Now stroke along the sides of your clit with just one finger.”

Belle cries out as she does what she was bid and the man can swear he could spontaneously combust from the pent up desire at any second. He yanks on the lacings of his breeches, pulling his cock out and giving himself a firm pull from root to the tip to take off some of the tension.

“Does it feel good, my sweet?” Her mouth is open in a silent cry and her small body arches back; she rises over the pillow as her own touch is driving her mad with need. “Tell me, tell me what you need.”

“Rum,” she whines, “I need… I… uh… I don’t have the words,” her eyes are pleading as she struggles to obey but cannot. “You. I need you. Please,” she whispers.

“Please what?” He wants to hear it from her, to have her demand the things she would normally be too shy to ask for, but the girl misunderstands him.

“Please, _master_.”

He groans as if she’s wounded him and carefully places the dagger on the carpet.

“Sit on my lap, little one,” he offers, smacking his hand on his knee.

Belle bounces up, the gold chain swaying between her jiggling breasts as she practically plops onto his lap, facing him. Rumpelstiltskin grabs her wrist, pulling her hand to his face.

“My, my, someone has been thoroughly enjoying herself,” he remarks before he takes a careful lick at her middle finger. She moans and tries to grind against him, desperate for any friction.

“None of that, pet. Hands on the armrests.”

She grips on the chair and goes still in his lap. Rumpelstiltskin gently traces his claws along her cheek, down to stroke her neck. Belle grunts when his fingers brush against the collar as if she could feel him through the metal. He grips the chain loosely in his fist, sliding it down and caressing her with the back on his hand. Rumple pauses briefly when his knuckles nudge against her slit, smirking at her gasp but continuing his journey until he reaches the end of the chain.

He twists it around his fingers and raises them to his mouth. Locking his stare with hers, he licks the metal before pressing it to her skin. It feels cool or perhaps her body is too heated. The damp metal makes her nipples crinkle up as he rubs them repeatedly. She bites her lip and shifts impatiently.

“Rumple,” she begs although if he asked her, she wouldn’t be able to tell what she wants him to do. She just wants him and doesn’t understand why he teases her.

Rumpelstiltskin ducks his head and his warm mouth closes around her nipple, sucking hard and she grips the armrests for dear life.

“Oh god,” she breathes as he pinches her other nipple, the cold metal links contrasting with the silky heat of his mouth. To her own shame she feels herself get even wetter, coating his legs with her sticky moisture. Finally, his hand moves lower and he cups her mound, rubbing his palm in small circles. He is careful not to hurt her with his rough skin and the hard metal but she thrusts her hips forward invitingly to increase the pressure.

Belle sobs with relief as he eases one slender finger inside of her and she clenches around it, making him hiss through his gritted teeth. She rocks up and down, riding his hand as he encourages her, curling his finger inside and keeping the hilt of his hand flush against her clit.

“Do you like it, dearest? Does it feel good to have me thrust my fingers inside you? Or do you wish it was my cock instead, hmm?” Belle closes her eyes, quickening her pace, slamming her hips down forcefully. “Oh I can tell you would love it if I fucked you, hard and fast and deep until you forgot your own name and screamed mine.”

He pushes her hair away, bending down to suck at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. Belle tenses up and he knows she’s close; despite his order, he can feel her radiate magic, the power sizzling on her skin. Rumpelstiltskin’s lips meet the collar and he nibbles on it, pushing his tongue under the rim and she screams, tightening around his finger as she slides over the edge, gasping and shaking.

He gently pulls his finger out of her and holds his hand up, arching an eyebrow at his wife.

“Care to clean me, pet?”

In fact, she does. Belle unwraps the chain from around them and drags it between her lips before she sucks on his digits noisily, swirling her tongue around them in a way that makes him curse under his breath at her utter wantonness.

“Come here.”

He grabs her arse, pulling her against him roughly until his cock is nestled between her drenched folds. Rumpelstiltskin maneuvers her up and she quickly catches on, grinding against him as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her buttocks. It doesn’t take him long before his cock throbs and he cums, coating her stomach and chest with thick white seed.

She looks down at herself covered in fluid that is rapidly turning clear and curiously rubs it around with her fingers. Some of his cum has even landed on her face and he swipes it away with his thumb before leaning forwards for a kiss, raking his fingers through her hair and pressing on the back of her neck to hold her closer.

“I love you,” she vows when they break apart and it sounds unusually natural and sincere, considering the state they are in and the mess.

“Belle,” he manages to say as a soft clawed hand squeezes his heart. She slips off his lap and puts her arm out to help him stand.

Rumple cleans them up with a snap of his fingers, clothing her and fastening his trousers. He does nothing to remove the collar except for disposing of the chain and Belle smiles.

“Thank you, master,” she says teasingly although her eyes darken slightly, betraying her newly found affection for the title.

The man bends down and picks up the dagger, offering it to his wife but she shakes her head.

“Keep it. I promised myself to you yesterday and nothing will ever change this decision.”

He stiffens but accepts it; if he was a better man, he would do the same for her. But his problem is that he is not and even a thousand lifetimes will not change it. As he pulls his beautiful warm loving wife into an embrace, Rumple thinks he needs to dispose of the wretched thing because he is weak; he is certain he will be tempted to use it again but all he does is place it near the bed, till better times or maybe till never.


End file.
